A Bird in the Oven - Kata Cuic Page 0,42

really no place to raise a family.”

It is odd that I am suddenly expected to be more than capable of negotiating real estate transactions which will be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. I glance at Liv. To her credit, the sickly pallor of her skin does make her look like she is suffering from morning sickness. She is a very good actress. I have learned much from her over the years.

“We have not discussed it yet,” I answer since she seems unwilling to speak. “Our first priority is a healthy, safe pregnancy then birth.”

“And how is my sweet little grandbaby?” Mom coos, approaching Liv with obvious intent. Her hands are extended, fingers wriggling, gaze fixed on Liv’s stomach.

My mom rubs Liv’s tummy the way a person would pet a dog. Liv’s eyes are wide, and she sticks her arms out to the side. She resembles a scarecrow decoration like the ones that are in so many yards this time of year.

“Mother, some people do not like to be touched without permission.” It is a rote phrase, dug up from the recesses of my memory. Only it has a different name attached to the reminder.

Mom’s face turns red. She raises her hands like she has been touching fire. “I’m so sorry, dear. I did overstep the bounds of courtesy, didn’t I?” She wraps her arms around Liv in a hug that Liv seems to enjoy much more. “How is my sweet daughter-in-law to be? Are you still sick most days? I got you the ginger I promised you.”

“Thank you,” Liv says, stumbling over her words uncharacteristically. “I’m okay most days.”

Mom smiles again. This one looks like she has a secret she cannot wait to tell. It is easy to guess what that is. “I know we’re keeping everything hush-hush until your big announcement at Thanksgiving, but have you told your mother yet?”

“No.” Liv gulps so loud I can hear it across the room. Her eyes are big and round. “Why? Have you talked to her?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no.” There are so many no’s, I lose count. “Ever since your mom and dad retired to Florida, we don’t talk nearly as often as we used to. A phone call here and there. We’ll probably speak closer to the holidays. I just didn’t want to overstep my bounds in a different way if you know what I mean.” She winks at Liv.

I do not know what she means. It is physically impossible for my mother to rub Liv’s mom’s stomach when they are so geographically distant.

“Is your family flying here for Thanksgiving?” This is a question I never thought to ask Liv.

“No.” She sighs. “They’re going to Brent’s house for Thanksgiving. The plan was for me to fly to them for Christmas.”

Olivia’s brother is already married with two children though he is a year younger. This must be a factor in Liv’s concern about turning thirty and still being single and childless. They have always been very competitive siblings. Liv is a senior librarian at the Carnegie. Her brother curates antique books for the Smithsonian. Liv graduated magna cum laude from Pitt. Brent graduated magna sum laude from Penn State. He is what is known as a mama’s boy, but Liv is a daddy’s girl.

I always had good feelings when in Brent’s presence. He never treated me poorly like so many other boys at school. In fact, he aided me many times in gym class. I helped him get better grades in math. A fact we kept secret from Liv.

Mom frowns and washes her hands without any soap or water. “Well, of course, you’ll have to split time between families now, but Oliver isn’t fond of flying. Come to think of it, he doesn’t much care for sand either.”

It is true. I dislike both of those things.

“I’m going for two weeks,” Liv says, suddenly eager to speak. “Ollie doesn’t have that much vacation time left this year.”

That is another untruth. I have exactly twenty-one point eight days of accrued vacation time. I hardly ever take days off from work. Liv knows this, so I must draw the conclusion she does not wish for me to accompany her to visit her family.

I must also draw the conclusion that Liv’s competitive nature with her brother could work in my favor. “Will Brent and his family be there? I miss him. I would like the opportunity to see him.”

She blinks at me with raised eyebrows. This expression is slightly difficult to read, but